


Star Eater

by monstersinthecosmos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Keith, D/s, Dom Shiro (Voltron), M/M, PWP, SHEITH - Freeform, Shibari, Sub Keith (Voltron), Top Shiro, dom kuron, kurieth, pwp af, shiro and i are embarrassed about how hard we went, these two goons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstersinthecosmos/pseuds/monstersinthecosmos
Summary: Shiro’s movements are confident, maybe even practiced, mechanical, and it goes way beyond Keith’s quick and dirty idea of just getting tied down to the furniture and railed. This is different.





	Star Eater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YureiYume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YureiYume/gifts).



> this was supposed to be a quickie drabble about bondage, whoops my hand slipped ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Named after [Star Eater](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8W6bxmorjx4) by Daniel Deluxe!! :D

 

Shiro is gentle. He’s a gentle guy. He speaks calmly and smiles often, he always leaves Keith with brow kisses.

So the first time Keith asks to be tied up, Shiro studies him for a long moment with a small smile, and he’s gentle as he does it. He checks in, asks if Keith is comfortable, asks if the knots are too tight. The gentleness isn’t surprising and, to be honest, neither is the kink, but Keith finds himself already uncomfortably hard just at the setup. Shiro’s movements are confident, maybe even practiced, mechanical, and it goes way beyond Keith’s quick and dirty idea of just getting tied down to the furniture and railed. This is different. 

Shiro kisses between his shoulder blades as he sets Keith’s arms in box position, and the rope grazes the edge of his nipple as Shiro makes work of the knots. Occasionally the cold metal fingers brush against his spine and it makes the hair raise on his neck, an unintentional reflex. Shiro apologizes by nipping at his vertebrae. 

Then the big hands around his biceps, lifting him to his feet and working at the buttons on his pants. There’s still the small smile, amused and condescending when Keith’s cock springs free over the elastic of his boxers—already this hard from the preparation. His cheeks flush red, part arousal and part shame, and he feels completely subservient as Shiro slides his pants down. A gentle tap at the back of each calf when he has to step out of his pant legs, and then he’s naked right in the middle of the room, tied up and cold, nipples tingling. 

“Knees,” Shiro says softly, and guides Keith back to the bed. And, oh. He wasn’t done. More rope, and his human and bionic hand alike move in graceful tandem with each other as he wraps it around Keith’s legs. The knots are tighter around his ankles and loop up over the tops of his thighs, digging into the meat there. His knees slide apart on the bed as Shiro works, until his balls are touching the blankets.

When it’s done Shiro checks the knots again, his fingers trace them lovingly and even slip sometimes to trace Keith’s skin. He tugs to make sure they’re secure, and asks again if Keith is all right.

All right? God. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he says. Impatient and ungrateful and he knows that it will get him his way regardless. Shiro laughs a little under his breath, and pushes stray bangs away from Keith’s eyes, kisses him on the temple.

“All right. Give me a minute.”

And then he’s gone.

It’s normal, he does this every time Keith wants a scene. It’s like he needs to be in his right mind to set it up, needs to know that it’s safe. And he’ll step outside for a moment and clear his head and when he comes back in he’s a new person.

Keith’s heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat and he tries to rock his hips for any bit of friction against the bed. He can feel sweat gathering around his hairline and his fingers twitch at his back. It’ll only be a second, just a second. Shiro never leaves for too long.

But he hears footsteps in the hallway, and the muffled baritone of Hunk’s voice, and the unbridled _rage_ bristles over his entire body. Now? Really? Fucking go to bed.

He can’t make out words, just the murky shapes of their voices. Hunk’s has enough of an uptick that Keith knows he’s asking questions, and then there’s the soothing, steady response. It goes on and on. Keith shifts and wants to edge closer to the other side of the bed, closer to the door, but his stomach drops as his posture wavers and he almost loses balance. Core strength alone holds him up and he feels the cold sweat ghosting over his skin. If he’d fallen he wouldn’t have been able to catch himself. It would’ve just been face down in the bed, ass in the air and tied up like a present, and the thought of it is so completely embarrassing but it’s still making him so fucking hard. 

Then Hunk is laughing, and Shiro laughs too, and… their voices are getting quieter, like Shiro is leading him away?

“Come the fuck on,” Keith mumbles. His head hangs and his hair falls back over his eyes, and no one is here to fix it for him.

There’s a long game to play here, and he tries to remind himself that this will all be worth it soon, that when Shiro can tap into his dominant side Keith leaves the fucking galaxy. He’ll make Keith wait, and make him beg, and it’s never as fun in the moment but it’s always so worth it. He tries to breathe evenly and closes his eyes, tries to rock his hips as much as he can without falling over, but it’s only making it worse. 

Fuck.

He needs Shiro.

Like, really needs him right now. Not the usual, familiar level of _I need your dick in me right now_ , but the emergency level. It’s not just the sex—like, yeah. It’s the sex, too. But his face is going red at the idea that Shiro just _walked the fuck away from the door_  and literally anybody could walk in right now and find him like this. Fuck. Fuck. _Goddamnit please come back._

And, fuck. Please don’t let it be Lance.

It should make him mad and it should ruin the game, but joke’s on you, Keith. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on his life. 

The hallway is silent outside and he’s starting to get cold and he can’t tell how much time has gone by. It’s not just that anyone could walk in—his mind makes it more dire. They could be attacked, he could need to get to a weapon. Just to see, he strains against the binds, just to check, and he genuinely can’t move. His torso twists side to side to try to move his arms but all that results is the rope rubbing into his nipple. 

Fuck. _Fuck._

Finally steps are outside again, and if Shiro’s footfall wasn’t so obvious he’d worry that it could be anybody. But it’s slow and steady, heavy, and it stops just outside the door. Keith’s body tenses all over waiting for it. 

The door whirs and Shiro steps inside. Keith’s back is to him and he has to twist to look over his shoulder. It’s Shiro, for sure. It’s the same person he sees every day. But there’s the eerie calm he’s slipped into, his face so still that he almost looks bored, and he’s … different somehow. 

“It’s about fucking time,” Keith says, and then turns away, lets his head hang again. The room is silent and he doesn’t realize he’s not breathing until he goes to look again, because Shiro hasn’t moved. 

He’s leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed over his chest. His bicep, the real one, is bulging from beneath his shirt sleeve and it makes Keith feel weak. His hands twitch and he tries to move his arms by reflex and the utter powerlessness shimmers in his core. 

A long moment passes where Shiro says nothing, and Keith bites his tongue because he’s starting to realize he shouldn’t complain. His breath is shaky when he gives in to the strain on his neck and faces forward again. It isn’t until his head is hanging and he’s looking down at his own lap that he hears Shiro move. 

“You’re very pretty,” Shiro says, and Keith is almost ready with a biting comeback but his dick is aching and he knows he should behave. The metal fingers graze up the length of his spine and he tenses, his skin breaks out with goosebumps from the chill. For the moment, Shiro says nothing else, just pets him across his upper back, and Keith can feel his ears burning. It’s embarrassing that he can be undone like this, that he’s shaking already. 

He turns to look but doesn't make it all the way to Shiro’s face, stops when he sees the vague outline of Shiro’s dick in his pants, at eye level from where he’s standing beside the bed. With Shiro beside him he’s not as afraid of crashing flat on his face, and tries harder to move, to get closer. His stomach clenches as he tilts forward a little, feeling weightless, helpless, but Shiro holds him by the shoulder so that he doesn’t fall.

With Shiro holding him for balance he can rub his cheek against the bulge and mouth at the shape of it. Sometimes he thinks Shiro is a tool for always being so impeccably dressed, even way the fuck out here in space—it seems so unnecessary that he always tucks his shirts in like this, the true military man. But sometimes, the rest of the time, he guesses, he can admit to himself that it’s such a turn on. He’ll never say that out loud though. His breath fogs on the belt buckle and it clinks into his teeth as he tries to look up, hoping that Shiro will read the pleading on his face.

Warm human hand brushes his hair away from his eyes, again, and tucks it behind his ears. He pets the side of Keith’s face with his knuckles, presses a thumb to Keith’s chapped bottom lip. Keith goes for it, obediently, sucks at it and bites a little bit, makes a pathetic little sound as he does it. 

“Please, Shiro?” digit in his mouth garbles the words, but it seems like Shiro understands. His smile is gentle and patient, loving, and he leans down to kiss Keith’s forehead before he steps backwards, out of reach. It makes Keith’s heart thump under his ribs. 

But Shiro turns his back to cross the room, over to his desk in the corner. He takes a seat, and the chair squeaks as he spins back around. It’s a relief to see his face again, but he’s so far away.

“Please what, baby?” 

He struggles against the restraints for a moment. His whole body is flushing hot. 

It’s a good question, really, and it’s too much to say out loud. It presents in his mind like a series of flashes and it’s hard to focus on what the best answer is. And Shiro likes him bratty. Keith knows this and he wields it. Shiro likes it, but he can’t push it too far. He’s already across the room and Keith’s already impatient enough.

“Please touch me,” he says, and his dick twitches in agreement. He’s already feeling so helpless and small and he wants Shiro’s hands on him again.

Shiro makes a small noise in thought, amused, but he doesn’t get up. His fingers tap against the arm of the chair like he’s considering it. His bionic hand curls under his chin and his eyes narrow. 

Keith has already waited so long and he’s ready to fucking scream.

He rolls down against the bed desperately, not caring that Shiro watches with cool judgement, only caring that he needs something, anything. But he freezes when Shrio shifts in his seat, hoping that he’ll come back. 

“Please,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to even hear himself. His whole body shudders.

There’s a soft tapping of metal on metal as Shiro goes instead to unbuckle his belt, taking his time. He opens his pants and studies Keith’s face as he reaches in to palm himself. Keith doesn’t want to look away but it’s hard to watch. He’s familiar with the shock of that hand on his own cock, that it’s always cold at first, that there’s the intoxicating thrill of the danger. He’s always nervous that his skin will get pinched in the plate where Shiro’s adductor pollicis should be. 

From across the room his hope is slowly fading, he’s accepting that he won’t be touched yet, but even the sight of it when Shiro finally pulls himself out makes Keith whimper. It’s familiar by now but he’s always a little shocked by how big he is, and his body always seizes like maybe he’s intimidated. Their first time he remembers panicking for a moment, suddenly unsure of himself, like he didn’t think it would even fit. But Shiro proved him wrong soon enough, easy and masterful, petting Keith and whispering encouragement close to his ear as he rocked in. 

So now it just makes him fucking thirsty. He squirms in place and his hole clenches in anticipation.

Shiro doesn’t come back, though. He relaxes into the desk chair and bunches his shirt further up his abs so that Keith can see the stripe of skin and muscle, and his real hand idly draws over one of the scars on his waist as he begins to stroke himself.

“You look so good like that,” Shiro says. His movements are slow like he isn’t in a hurry. Keith’s nails dig into his palms. “It suits you.” 

He wants to respond but all that comes out is a sputter of noise, not even words. 

“We should do this more often, I think it would keep you out of trouble.”

He’s fantasized quite a bit about the things Shiro might be able to do with his bionic arm. He’s imagined the unnatural strength and how fast Shiro can move the fingers. But he’s so languid with himself, unbothered. It must be too normal for him. Maybe even decidedly un-sexy. 

But, no. That can’t be true.

He’s stuck in place and the exposure is bigger than his body on display. Shiro’s eyes narrow and his breath shakes a little bit in pleasure and Keith just has this feeling like Shiro can see through him, see every part of him. He’s got to know and almost as if in response his wrist begins to twist gracefully, perfectly, mechanically. 

Keith is leaking down onto the sheets.

“Shiro please,” he says again. “Don’t make me beg.”

_Please make me fucking beg._

“You’re asking so nicely,” Shiro says, and his thumb traces a circle around his cockhead. It makes his eyes flutter, but they never close. The corner of his mouth quirks into a smile, mischievous like he’s planning something, and finally he breaks eye contact to let his head fall back as he moans. His hand stutters for a moment, he squeezes himself around the base, but when he opens his eyes again and looks back up, he continues. Keith’s displeasure must be obvious, painted across his face, because Shiro laughs at him. It’s soft, strained—it’s a tell that he’s enjoying himself, too—but it still makes Keith grit his teeth in frustration. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

“I want you to touch me,” he whines. Yeah, whines. He didn’t mean to. His face burns even hotter.

“Oh?” Shiro raises an eyebrow and his human fingers touch his bottom lip in thought. “I thought you wanted to be powerless.”

“ _Shiro_.”

“I thought this was about using you in whatever way I see fit.”

“Fucking use me, then. Shiro!”

He’s still stroking himself through it and Keith can see the precum shining at the tip from across the room. His back arches against his seat and he makes himself moan, and after it passes he’s smiling. It’s close-lipped and maybe insincere. “I am.”

Keith’s thigh muscles flex in place, strain against the binds. It’s as if he can still feel Shiro’s strength, even from across the room, holding him in place. He wants to be mad, really. It’s frustrating but knowing that it’ll be worth it is tingling on his skin. Behind his back he squeezes his own forearms until it hurts.

“You aren’t good at this, you know,” Shiro says. But he’s smiling, and sympathetic for now. A noise comes from the back of Keith’s throat and Shiro rolls his eyes as he laughs under his breath. He’s just as hard as Keith is and dripping against his own stomach. His human hand brushes the white strand of hair out of eyes as he stands up, holding himself by the base as he crosses the room. Keith’s shoulders perk up and Shiro stops just out of reach.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

His face is hot. Even the sound of Shiro’s voice ricochets around his insides. “I told you already. _Shiro_.”

“Tell me again.”

He’s not sure what to say, to be honest. He knows it’s a trap. There’s some shred of dignity left that keeps him from whining. _Please fuck me, just hold me down and fuck me, please._ But Shiro is so close to him now and he wants to please him, and maybe if he’s selfless it’ll speed the process along. So he tries again.

“I want to suck you. Let me suck you,” he says. He opens his mouth, tongue edging out over his bottom lip like he’s gonna receive communion, and Shiro takes a step closer. He pumps himself slowly, just out of reach, and he’s close enough that Keith can feel the heat radiating off his body. Shiro’s broad shoulders cast him in shadow. 

There’s the briefest moment where Shiro leans in close enough that Keith is able to swipe his tongue over the dripping head of his cock, and the taste of it shoots right down his spine, but it’s gone as soon as it happens, Shiro pulling back so that Keith wobbles on his knees, in danger of falling over the edge of the bed. 

“I don’t think you’re being honest with me,”  Shiro says. His human hand runs through Keith’s hair, palm soothing on the back of his skull for a moment before he _tugs_ , and Keith hisses at the pain. He keeps Keith deliberately out of reach as he strokes himself faster. 

“Shiro,” Keith pleads, and before he can say anything else he feels the hot splash of Shiro’s release across his face. It startles him and his body tenses, his eyes blink wildly a few times as it drips down over his cheek. Some of it is in his mouth and he swallows around it, licks his lips. His heart skips a beat.

At eye-level, Shiro is still squeezing at himself, wringing the last of it out. He lets it drip down into Keith’s open mouth before putting himself back into his pants. He lets go of Keith’s hair to fasten his belt, and then wipes across the mess with his thumb, pressing softly to Keith’s mouth until he sucks it away.

“Will you be okay here for a few?” he asks. Keith grits his teeth.

“ _What?”_

“I have to make rounds. You can wait, right?” he gives Keith a condescending pat on the head and kisses a clean spot on his cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.”

And he’s gone.

Keith closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, tries to ignore the feeling of the cum dripping slow down his face, going cool. He can still taste it in his mouth and feel the lingering ache on his scalp. It’s still chilly in the room, more so without Shiro there to distract him and it’s hard to know how much time is going by, except that it’s making his skin break into goosebumps and his nipples are painfully hard. There’s no sound coming from the hallway, he just hears the constant, low thrum of the castle all around him, but, like before, there are little spikes of panic at the thought that someone could walk in on him like this. And worse now, with Shiro’s cum on his face. There’s some in his hair. 

“Goddamnit, Shiro,” he mutters, but his arousal hasn’t waned. 

It’s right when his hips are starting to protest from the uncomfortable position that he hears footsteps again. It’s distinctly him; heavy and sure. Keith always knows it’s him when he makes these rounds in the castle. He hears him pacing at night sometimes, checking the halls when no one’s asked him to. He doesn’t know if it aches more in his heart or his cock.

When he comes back inside his face is relaxed like nothing has happened. Of course, he’s gotten off already, taken the edge off, and Keith is still a mess of nerves. He opens his mouth and can still taste Shiro there, but doesn’t know what to say. A tiny shard of self control tells him not to complain, and he wonders if Shiro’s proud of him for it. He hopes so, anyway. Shiro’s always telling him to be patient and focus and control himself and he wouldn’t be surprised if this was some bullshit excuse to make him practice all of it. 

He’s almost ready to panic when Shiro walks towards the corner of the room, worried he’ll be ignored again, but tries to breathe and keep himself together as he watches Shiro undress. It’s relaxed and slow, and he chews on his lip when he sees the expanse of Shiro’s bare back after a moment. There’s a dual effect between the sight of the sculpted muscles and the lattice of scars, and he thinks to nights when he’s not tied up, clawing at his shoulders, feeling how hard he is under his skin, almost more machine than man. Keith is shivering and his mind is going hazy as Shiro folds his clothes like he’s unbothered, but when he turns to face Keith it’s clear that he’s hard again. 

_Please, please_ , he wants to say, but thinks he knows better. He stays quiet as Shiro comes back across the room and finally kneels on the bed, hands on Keith’s thighs, heavy weight pressing him down into the mattress. The squeeze of the bionic hand hurts more.

At first it’s just one kiss, a bit chaste, and his hands slide up Keith’s sides, hold him around the waist. A quick kiss like he’s checking in, and then he leans back so they can see each other’s faces.

“Hi,” he says. Keith’s heart is pounding and he’s not sure what he should say. Shiro’s thumbs trace the lines of his ribs. “I like you like this.”

His cock twitches beneath the praise and his eyebrows are coming together. Shiro leans in close for a moment, their chests briefly touching, but it’s only so that he can reach behind Keith and grab something from under the pillow. When he pulls back and straightens out, Keith sees it’s a bottle of lube. He lets out a breath of relief, not realizing he was holding it. His knees spread further apart, unconsciously, making more space. 

“It’s nice having you tied up,” Shiro says, and he’s dripping the lube on his bionic hand. It makes the black fingers even shinier. His head tilts and he leans in to peck another kiss on Keith’s cheek. “Like a present.”

Keith’s fingers are starting to feel numb.

The next kiss is messier, hotter. Sloppy and wet and a bit filthy, the kind of kiss Keith always wants and Shiro always scolds him for. The human hand sweeps up the side of his neck, fingertips settling on his jaw and holding him there. There’s the wet press of Shiro’s tongue in his mouth and the soft bite at his bottom lip, blunt nails dragging across the stubble on his jaw. It’s distracting enough that he’s surprised to feel the cool mechanical fingers between his legs, thumb pushing hard into the pressure point at the base of his cock. It’s a dirty trick that Shiro has learned, and he’s chuckling into Keith’s mouth at the full-bodied tremble that it brings on. He can’t help picturing again that his skin could get pinched in the plate on Shiro’s hand, it’s bound to happen one of these days, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. Willing isn’t even the right word. The danger of it makes him moan. 

“You’re so desperate,” Shiro whispers. His slick fingers run playfully back and forth on Keith’s taint, teasing before he slides lower. Keith attempts to rise up on his knees the best he can, tilting forward into the dense wall of Shiro’s chest. The prosthesis is unnaturally cool but it’s warming up from Keith’s body heat. He does his best to rock upward, trying to direct the pressure of Shiro’s fingers where he wants them, maybe trying to rub forward enough that his dick can grind against Shiro’s hard abs, but Shiro laughs low against his ear and holds him right where he is, floating there desperately untouched.

“Shiro,” he whimpers. His cheeks are burning. “Please.”

Shiro’s whispering next to his ear, breath is warm and wet and it gives him chills. “You’re so slutty right now. Look at you.”

It’s that moment that he finally plunges in, emphasizing his words by sinking his thick middle finger into Keith’s body. Keith goes stiff and gasps, goes for Shiro’s mouth again to smother his own noises. The stretch is sudden but Keith loves the way it burns for a moment, the way it blends outward into warmth. Even the fake hand is big like his real one, already making him feel happily full, but it’s so smooth and inhuman. There isn’t the friction of real skin, more like the glide of a toy. Keith hasn’t admitted it out loud yet, but the prosthesis does something to his brain that he almost can’t handle. Even now just feeling it in his body is making him weak. Shiro curls inside him, stroking right where Keith needs it, and he unconsciously thrashes his arms again, his body in denial that he’s trapped where he is. He wants to touch. 

Human hand pets Keith’s hair away from his face again, scratches behind his ear, trails down his body in appraisal. He rubs his thumb in a circle around Keith’s nipple, matching the way he’s rubbing a circle around his prostate. It’s making his dick leak into the sheets.

“You wanted this for a long time, didn’t you?” Shiro asks. He pulls almost all the way out only to press back in with a second finger. 

“Shi- _iro_...”

The answer is yes, of course. But Keith isn’t going to admit that. His mouth is hanging open and he tries to lean forward to kiss again, to kill any need for speech, but Shiro pinches his nipple and holds him back, just like that. The sharp pain of it shoots straight down his core, right to his cock, and he can’t help the tiny sob that escapes.

“How many times have you touched yourself here?” Shiro stretches his fingers for emphasis. “I bet you wished it was me.”

Later, when this is over, when he’s come down, he’s going to blush every time he thinks about the noises he was making. 

His human hand hovers over Keith’s dick for a moment and he raises his hips to meet it, effectively fucking himself up and down on Shiro’s prosthesis His whole body is beginning to throb with the need to be touched and he whimpers as Shiro pulls back, avoiding contact.

“What do you need, baby?” Shiro almost sounds sincere.

“Touch me?” his voice is small when he answers, afraid to ask. 

“You want me to touch you?” Shiro says. His fingertips graze the underside of Keith’s cock and his thumb swipes over the leaking head. “Here?”

“Mmhmm.”

There’s heat spreading across his body at the contact and he’s about to lean into it when Shiro stops. He pulls away and looks down at the glossy smear across his thumb. 

“But baby,” he says, and he presses his thumb to Keith’s mouth. It’s reflexive to suck on it and it makes him squirm to taste his own precum. “This isn’t about what you want.”

Keith wants to scream and he twists back and forth for a moment like he can break free. He’s drooling a little around Shiro’s thumb, but Shiro draws away to wipe it up, to push it back in. As his thumb works in and out of Keith’s mouth, he adds a third finger. Keith isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to maintain clear thoughts, but he admires the focus and dexterity.

The synapses in his brain are too knotted together in dissatisfaction, only hearing that he isn’t getting his way, so it takes a moment of falling into Shiro’s rhythm to really parse what he’d said. _This isn’t about what you want_ , and he’s so painfully aware of the way Shiro is playing with him at both ends, using him like he’s a toy. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does—the realization shouldn’t make him moan around Shiro’s thumb, shouldn’t make his cock drip in a slow line, pooling on his balls. His mind is expanding around the idea and he clenches his hole. _You’re very pretty._ His body does a quick spasm and he wonders if he can come like this, just from this, and it’s so fucking humiliating that he thinks he probably will.

Shiro seems to sense it, though, and slows down. He’s grinning like it’s funny and pulls away from Keith’s mouth, and the fingers in his ass slow down to something gentle. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he teases. He kisses Keith on the mouth, licks into him, slow and messy, and he eases in a third finger. Keith gasps into him and his arms thrash. He wants to touch, he’s trying to anchor himself somehow, steady himself against Shiro’s chest or claw at his broad shoulders, something, anything, but he’s still powerless. 

It’s a feeling he’d normally hate, that would make his skin crawl. It’s usually a spike of anxiety—a wave of cold on the surface of his skin, the kidney-squeeze kick of adrenaline. But he’s struggling and his skin is warm and he’s gritting his teeth but there are huge hands on his body and somehow it feels safe. _Safe_. His head is getting light and Shiro is stretching him open and it burns and it’s so so good. 

“Shiro,” he whines. The pattern Shiro is drawing on his prostate is making him shake. Shiro kisses the corner of his jaw and bites softly at his earlobe.

“You like being a little fucktoy,” he says. His voice vibrates in Keith’s ear. “You’re just a hole for me to use.”

_Please please yes._ The strangled noise that comes out is so primal and needy and he’s never felt like this before. 

“This is what you want, baby?” Shiro drawls against him. “You want me to use you?”

“Please,” his voice cracks and he’s so embarrassed, but he rolls desperately on Shiro’s fingers. 

“Tell me,” Shiro says. He sucks at Keith’s earlobe, tonguing the little scar where an earring used to be. “Tell me what you want.”

“Hnnhgh—“ he turns his head for a kiss, hoping to provide a distraction, because he doesn’t know what words are right now. Or, well. He thinks he does. But he doesn’t want to say them. He’s holding so tightly to the last piece of himself, maybe the final part left in the real world. Shiro’s smile is so patronizing, wry but patient. He’s waiting for it, he knows that Keith is teetering on the edge. He doesn’t think he knows how to beg, he’s mortified by the thought, but the clock is ticking on his resolve. And Shiro _knows it_.

“Come on, baby,” he says.He moves his hand faster and it’s so obvious for a moment that it isn’t human. Keith’s nails dig into his forearms and he wails.

“Fuck you’re gonna m-make me come,” he blurts out, dick twitching between them. Shiro’s laughter makes the hair rise on the back of his neck.

“Oh, sweetheart,” but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, maybe it even gets worse, “you wouldn’t do that yet. I’m not done playing with you.”

“Shiro—“ whatever he wants to say gets cut off by the human hand clamping hard around his dick, and his voice tapers out into a sob. He falls forward to lean against Shiro’s chest. His whole body aches. He takes a deep breath, then two, closes his eyes. Shiro’s grip loosens and he lets go and the way he touches Keith’s hair is actually gentle, maybe he’s even breaking character for a moment. But Keith doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t call him on it, and Shiro doesn’t say anything. When the urge passes and he feels calmer, he kisses one of the pink lines on Shiro’s pec, then traces the hard ridge of scar tissue with his tongue. Shiro makes an amused noise in the back of his throat as Keith sucks a nipple into his mouth. 

“Good,” he says. He brushes hair away from Keith’s forehead, out of his eyes, and pets the back of his head. “Good boy.”

And then he pulls away. 

Keith feels himself twitching and clenching around the sudden emptiness, and a line of spit runs down across his chin as Shiro pushes him back. His body responds with a jolt of fear, skin going tight and heart tripping like he’s going to fall down when Shiro takes him by the hips and spins him around. It’s a reflex to try to put his hands out to catch himself and the rope, soft as it is, burns against his wrists. His abs go stiff as he cants forward, the last option to keep from crashing, but Shiro’s hands are around him at the last second. His right hand, warm from Keith’s insides, curls like a hook into his ilium and the human one splays across his chest, hard against his breast bone. And the power of it, the safety, makes him moan out loud. 

Shiro eases him down so he doesn’t hurt himself, lets him turn his head to the side so that he can breathe as the side of his face crushes against the bed. His hand trails back and forth across Keith’s chest for a moment like he’s checking in, and he squeezes a nipple before pulling back. Keith can see his shape in the corner of his eye, hovering over, but doesn’t expect it when the hand settles between his shoulder blades and holds him down. 

“Did you want me to use you?” Shiro asks again. His metal fingertips circle Keith’s hole but don’t press in again. It makes Keith arch his back further, not sure if he’s more exhilarated or humiliated at the way he’s on display like this.

“Please,” he says. He can see the way Shiro bends forward, and feels both hands spreading him apart, and then Shiro’s warm breath, close to his skin.

“Please what?”

“P-please, _fuck_ ,” Shiro licks him open, slowly, and Keith squirms. “ _Shiro_.”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he says between strokes. He nips at the meat of Keith’s cheek.

“Please fuck me,” Keith says. He’s whining. He says it again like it’s a mantra. “Please fuck me.” 

“Hmm,” the way he hums against Keith’s skin makes him shudder. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

His tongue presses inside and Keith claws at his own arms. 

“Please, please,” is he crying? “Shiro fuck me. Fuck me. How many times do I have to ask?”

Shiro chuckles and rubs a soothing hand on Keith’s thigh. “As many times as it takes.”

Goddamnit he feels like he’s gonna come again. He turns his face down into the bed, squeezes his eyes closed. He doesn’t think he’s ever come without his dick being touched and might be dangerously close to figuring out if he can.

It clicks then, like a riddle he’s finally solved, and his body spasms. He tries to stretch his legs and can’t, only manages to writhe there. Shiro lays a broad, flat stripe against his hole and squeezes his legs. His head is somewhere else and there’s only space left for the sensation, and he’s gasping for breath, dizzy and lost when he tries again.

“Use me,” he whimpers. “Please, Shiro, Please use me.”

Shiro kisses the base of his spine and laughs, but it’s gentle. “That’s right, baby. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

He shifts behind Keith, and the large hands are on his hips, tilting him just right. There are shapes blooming behind his eyelids as he feels the soft, blunt head of Shiro’s dick rub against him, but he doesn’t push through just yet. He rubs it back and forth a few times.

“You just want to be used,” he purrs. “You’re a horny little slut.”

_Fuck_.

“Tell me,” Shiro says. “You’re doing so good, baby. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

His face is burning hot and he turns his head so that he can speak. Shiro must be able to see how red his cheek is. He’s probably blushing all the way down his neck. His mouth feels so dry but he thinks he can say it now. He doesn’t feel like they’re in the castle anymore, not in space, not out fighting some fucking war none of them asked for. All he can feel is Shiro’s hands on his skin and the warmth of his praise. 

“I want…” he voice tangles in his throat and he trails off. 

Shiro gives him a hard slap on his ass and his entire body goes tense.

“ _I want you to use me_ ,” he babbles. “I want you to own me. Do whatever you want.”

He hears the click of the bottle and his toes curl. 

“Keith?” there’s the squelch of lube as Shiro prepares himself.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m going to fuck you now.” 

He swears if his hands weren’t tied he’d be spreading himself, offering himself. His chest heaves and he bites down on his lip.

“You’re mine,” Shiro says, and there’s finally the pressure, the stretch, and Keith is gasping into the sheets. His mind flashes on the hours he’s been waiting for this—not just the scene, but the look Shiro gave him on the bridge this morning, how it’s been crawling in him all goddamn day. But he can’t make sense of time—all he knows is that it’s something he’s needed, and it doesn’t matter how many times they’ve fucked by now, he still can’t breathe when Shiro pushes in. 

“You’re so big,” he whines, despite himself. Shiro’s going slow, letting him adjust, but he rocks his hips back for more.

Shiro’s laughing a little and grabs the ropes across his back, jerking his body for emphasis. “That’s what they tell me.” 

He’s halfway in when he stops and pulls back, giving Keith a few half-thrusts. It’s slow and he can feel the bump of Shiro’s head catching on his rim. 

“You love it, huh?” Shiro asks. He smacks Keith on the ass again. He sinks all the way in and Keith thinks he’s going to have a bruise tomorrow where Shiro’s right hand is holding him in place. When Shiro stops, fully seated, he feels like he can’t breathe for a moment, overwhelmed by the satisfaction and fullness. His mind is full of smoke and he feels his body spasming around it. 

It’s so quiet in the room except for his pathetic mewling. 

“Show me,” Shiro says. He rubs his hands up and down Keith’s sides. “Show me how much you love being a toy. Show me what a little cockslut you are.”

It’s hard to get leverage with his weight balancing on his knees and shoulders, but he does his best to roll his hips. Shiro’s body is hard and still behind him, a dense wall, and he lets Keith do the work for a moment.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes. “Tell me you love it.”

“Shiro…” 

“You can tell me, it’s okay.”

The noise that comes out isn’t words and his rhythm falters, but Shiro’s hands on his hips guide him to continue. It’s so embarrassing that he almost wants to die, but Shiro grinds into him and it’s the only thing he’s ever even wanted.

“I love your cock,” he mumbles into the bed. “I love it when you use me.”

Shiro’s hand is carding through the hair at the back of his head, warm palm cradling his skull for a minute before he tugs, and it’s all pain and red and light when his face comes up. There’s a hard thrust from behind him and he’s fucking drooling.

“I didn’t hear that, you were mumbling.”

“Shi-iro-“

“Louder, Keith.”

He’s trying to calculate how far away the next room is, wonders if anyone’s still awake. Shiro’s metal hand squeezes around his ribs and he fucks into him again, almost pulling all the way out this time. 

“I l-love it when you use me,” Keith says, louder. The bionic arm curls around beneath him, cradles his weight so that he’s hanging there, mid-air. It makes his body feel tense but he can’t help but feel another wave of arousal at Shiro’s strength, his size. The sculpted forearm is cold against his flank. 

“What else?” 

All he can think about is the frantic energy squirming in his body and the fucking size of Shiro’s dick, the way he rubs against Keith’s prostate on every thrust. His legs are wobbling and he’d have fallen already if Shiro wasn’t holding him up. 

“I’m yours,” he pants. It’s not even a lie. He thinks he might be ruined for anyone else. 

“You’re my what?”

He bounces Keith on his cock and squeezes one of his nipples. He was naive, back when he asked for this. He didn’t know he’d be taken apart like this, never thought he’d have to say this shit out loud. But a sharp crack fills his ears and his ass is stinging and Shiro is rubbing the sore spot that he just smacked and Keith is ready to cry. Shiro has him so good that the words are practically falling out of his mouth.

“I’m your toy,” he sobs. “I’m your fuck toy. I’m your slut. Fucking use me. Use me.”

“That’s what I thought,” Shiro says, and he pats the small of Keith’s back in approval. Bionic arm brushes up the front of his body, settles on his throat, and pulls him until he’s upright on his knees. Teeth graze the back of his neck. Then a kiss to the corner of his jaw and it’s hot and wet when Shiro whispers in his ear. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

He feels it finally, the pinch of skin in Shiro’s fake hand. Shiro doesn’t notice, of course, he wouldn’t. But it’s a blip of sensation as the hand spreads across his throat, palm crushing softly against his Adam’s apple. He can still breathe and it’s an illusion, he knows it, but the pressure has him writhing. He can feel his own pulse hammering into Shiro’s fingers.

“Does it make you wanna come?” 

His fingers twitch and he can feel Shiro’s abs near his hands. He tries to claw at him, completely frantic to hang onto something, and he can’t find words but he nods his head desperately. Shiro pistons in and out of him and his knees begin to slide apart, until Shiro hauls him back up. All he can feel is the power enveloping his whole body. 

“Come for me, darling,” Shiro whispers. 

Keith can’t remember ever coming like this, but he doesn’t remember ever being so thoroughly fucked like this, either. Somewhere in the back of his head he’s aware that he’s been with others, knows he had the usual clumsy bullshit hookups before all of this happened, when Shiro was gone. He remembers them being reckless and rushed and unsatisfying, and he still isn’t over how every time with Shiro feels like he’s transcended. He almost understands humans’ obsessions with it, except he can’t imagine anyone getting it this good.

Still, there’s a first time for everything, and Shiro’s squeezing him around the jaw and pumping him full, and he looks down to see the way his dick is leaking and red, and Shiro’s been acting cool about it but he’s grunting low against Keith’s ear in time with the slap of his hips against Keith’s ass. And the whole day and the whole scene is winding tight around him and he thinks he’s about to fall over the edge.

Shiro’s thumb rubs a circle over his jaw. “That’s right, look at it. I’m gonna make you come without even touching you. You’re so desperate for my cock.”

Keith’s shuddering and wants to laugh because it isn’t even a lie, but he’s wailing and he sees the way it spurts out of him, how it splashes up onto his belly and drips down his shaft. Fuck. _Shiro_. 

He’s starting to feel limp and dazed and he has about ten seconds before he’ll want to do nothing but curl into Shiro’s arms and fall asleep, but Shiro moves behind him, his weight shifting, and Keith looks over his shoulder to see him settling down onto his knees. Before he can make sense of any of it he feels a steady arm around his waist, pulling him down into his lap, impaling him deeper on the huge cock. He throws his head back against Shiro’s shoulder and cries out.

“Come on now,” he says. He gives Keith’s balls a little squeeze and his fingers run gently over the trail of cum, up his shaft until he’s pinching at the foreskin. It makes Keith’s entire body seize in overstimulation. “I’m not done with you.”

Fuck _._ Fuck, _fuck_. He feels himself go tight around Shiro, and it makes the thrusts falter for a moment until Shiro pets the space beneath his navel, coaxing the tension away as he kisses the outside of Keith’s ear. 

“I thought you were my little slut,” he says. Keith can feel the way his insides squeeze between Shiro’s hand and his cock and he’s not sure he’s in the same galaxy anymore. “Come on baby, keep going. Ride me like you want me.”

“Hnngh-“

It’s hard to move with his thighs bound to his ankles. It’s hard to focus because his ears are still ringing. But Shiro is only half-demanding it, and the hands on his body help him out. He rocks himself forward and lets his weight sink down, again and again, his dick still aching and red and bobbing between his legs. 

“You’re so pretty,” Shiro whispers, and then his bionic hand is around Keith’s cock, and his whole body convulses at the touch.

“Shiro!” he hisses. He’s too sensitive to think straight, and his arms knock into Shiro’s body as he fights against the ropes. He can’t focus on riding, can’t focus on anything except how much it hurts and how much he doesn’t want it to stop, but Shiro starts driving up into him. There are black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

“You’re my favorite toy to play with,” he says, and sounds like he means it. There’s sweat on his chest, sticking to Keith’s back, and he’s squeezing around Keith’s dick, pressing his thumb into the head so that Keith trembles all over. “Look at you.”

“Shiro please-“

“Mmm, you sound good like this,” he licks up the side of Keith’s face. “Crying for me. You should cry louder.”

The glide of his hand over Keith’s dick is so slippery from the cum and it shocks through his groin, his stomach, the bottoms of his feet. It throbs and for a moment all he can feel is his own heat, the sweat on his skin, the way his muscles contract all over his body in protest. 

“Please, Shiro,” he’s bawling, honest to god bawling, he can feel the tears sneaking from the corners of his eyes and running tracks through the chalky dried cum from earlier. 

“Please what?” he drives in harder and Keith sees stars on every thrust. 

“Stop, fuck,” fuckfuckshit, “Shiro fuck it’s too much oh my god-“ the way his Galra hand moves is unnatural, too fast, fuck, he doesn’t want it to stop. 

“You want me to stop?” But he’s pounding in and breathing heavy against Keith’s ear and the way his fingers bump into his cockhead have him ready to fucking scream. 

“ShiroShiroShiro please-“ _don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop._

He bites Keith’s ear before the quiet reminder: “You have a safe word.”

And that’s all it takes, and he can’t see the room around them. He’s aware that they’re on a ship in space and he can see the view from the bridge, the all-encompassing blackness, the sharp glitter of stars he could never see from Earth. His insides feel like nebulae and he’s weightless and safe in the strong arms as he comes a second time. There’s a solid minute where he can’t think—there’s no language, no fear, only the familiar safety and the only place he’s ever felt at home—and his lungs are burning as he wheezes to recover.

It seems like Shiro drops the act, and he lets go, no more teasing, and he eases Keith back down to lean on his shoulders so that he can chase his own climax with abandon. It doesn’t take long, but angling him like this gives Shiro a clear path, and his pace is brutal for a dozen strokes until he’s choking on Keith’s name and coming himself. He squeezes Keith’s hips, pulls him closer, and Keith can feel the burst of warmth coating his insides. He can feel the pulse of Shiro’s cock as he unloads, and he must be making noises because Keith feels the way it rumbles through both of their bodies. 

And he realizes something as he stretches around Shiro’s enormous cock, as it fills him and as he pushes through a few more slow, firm thrusts. It’s that he’d do anything for this man. 

It could be his dick talking, he’s aware of that, but he has a feeling that this haze will pass soon and the feeling will remain. Some version of it has existed this whole time and he’s been too nervous to look it in the face, but as Shiro slowly pulls out and he feels the cum dripping from his body he wonders if he’s ready to admit it. 

He’ll save Shiro, and pleasure him, and love him. He’ll keep him safe from harm and give him a place to unwind. Something tiny, tucked away in his mind where he’s too blissed out to hear it right now, is trying to remind him how embarrassed he’ll be at the memories of his wanton pleading, and he knows Shiro will feel the same. Gentle Shiro, quiet Shiro, who doesn’t trust the strength in his own hands. But he shouldn’t worry so much.

Keith is the safe place.

Shiro doesn’t say anything but begins to untie him. His arms flop useless to his sides and he can’t even move for a moment. There are still aftershocks flowing through his whole body and he thinks if Shiro tries to touch him again he might scream. They catch their breath in silence for a moment, and Keith closes his eyes, curls on his side. 

“Hey,” Shiro says softly, and his human hand touches Keith’s chin. “Will you be okay here for a few?”

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna go get a towel, is that okay?”

God, he’s in fucking love.

It isn’t something he knows how to say out loud and he doesn’t think he’s gonna try to, but he takes Shiro’s prosthesis in hand and begins to lick his own cum from the webbing between the fingers. He hopes that will explain it enough for now. The feeling aches heavy in his chest like pain. 

And Shiro fucking blushes. He allows it for a moment but finally pulls away and grabs his pants. It’s late, everyone’s probably asleep, but Keith is still pleasantly amused to see the way he rushes out of the room shirtless. It’s unlike him, but he was going pink up to his ears and probably needed a minute.

He rolls onto his back and massages his arms, kicks his legs up and down a few times. Fuck. It feels like a refresh button has been flipped on his entire body. 

This time, he doesn’t hear Shiro coming back, because he’s barefoot and shy and when he steps back inside the set of his entire frame spells out the apology. He won’t look at Keith’s face as he kneels next to him and begins wiping away the film of cum and lube and spit that’s coating him like a second skin.

His human hand is so gentle when he begins to wipe at Keith’s face, still not meeting his eyes. No one who got laid like that should seem so tense. Keith sighs and grabs him by the wrist to stop him.

“Hey,” he says.

Shiro’s brow creases and the scar over the bridge of his nose wrinkles. “Did I hurt you was it okay I’m sorry if I was too rough I got a little carried away are you all right?”

Keith pulls him down into the bed so that he collapses on top, crushing him under his weight. Shiro squirms a little in protest but settles down when Keith doesn’t budge. 

“I’m all right,” Keith says. He kisses Shiro’s temple. “Are you all right?”

There’s a pause and he can feel Shiro’s heart pounding between them. 

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah. I… I think I’m all right.”

It feels like his chest is expanding, like his ribs will crack trying to contain it. He’s worn out enough that he thinks he’ll just let it happen.

The silence is heavy for a moment and Keith tries to land on the right thing to say, what type of reassurance he can give, what comfort. But in the end he only laughs at the irony, because the truth is that he’s so fucking wrecked he’s not even sure what language they’re speaking. 

“Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna sleep in here, okay?”

Shiro props himself up on his elbow and looks down at him. There’s pale green light on his face from the way it glows around his bed. 

They’ve never properly slept together before, and he can see the way it’s dawning on Shiro’s face. Maybe bold of him to invite himself, maybe unceremonious, but he’s never come that hard before either. He’s never had multiple orgasms. And to be honest, he’s not sure he’ll be able to walk back to his own room. There’s a first time for everything. 

“Yeah,” Shiro says. He’s a bit frantic. “Yeah, sure. Of course. Anything.”

Keith sits up, still weak, and gives him a kiss.

“Change the fucking sheets though.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have deep ass thoughts about sex with Kuron but like, there's no plot to be found in these parts so. NOT NOW!!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Say hi on Tumblr!](https://monstersinthecosmos.tumblr.com/post/177935916279/star-eater-monstersinthecosmos-voltron)


End file.
